Saved by the Stars
by DWF222
Summary: I was desperate. Desperate for something concrete while my dark reality tossed me back and forth like a rag doll. I grasped at straws. Trying to drown out the trauma with a blade, trying to take the beatings without bursting into tears. I struggled to keep my head. But sometimes your life boils down to one crazy moment. And only a madman and a blue box could save me from mine.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Hey this is just a little short story to see what the Doctor would do if he had to deal with a suicidal girl. It'll probably be two or three chapters :)**

Life was made up of moments. Some happy, some sad, some infuriating. Some may be short, others painstakingly long, but they all had a purpose. They were all decisions and choices that influenced your life in one way or another. They were the moments that lead up to the point you were currently at.

I was at a crazy moment. It was one of those decisions that lingered in your mind for a while, but never had the guts to do. It was one of those choices that you needed to be on the brink of pure insanity to ever execute.

Well, I had finally reached that point.

My converse hit the pavement, the sound exploding through my ears. The December air stung at my cheeks, freezing the tears trickling down from my eyes. The snowflakes whipped around with the bone-chilling wind, making it harder to see through darkness of the night. The streetlamps were the only light to guide me to my destination.

It's funny how much stuff you miss on a daily basis. How acute your senses are when you feel you no longer have a purpose in the world you're living in. I swear I could hear each snowflake hit the ground with a thud; each turn the water took in the river, each blink that tried to push away my salty tears.

Every sound, touch, feeling was amplified to the extreme. I no longer felt like myself. It felt as if my soul had abandoned my body long ago. And I was running. Running from my parents, my school, my life. I was numb, yet I could feel everything.

I came back to reality as I slammed into the metal rail. I sobbed noisily into the scarf that was coiled around my neck. This world was too much. My life wasn't the one I dreamed of leading. I imagined a perfect family, one who loved me, a perfect boyfriend, one who called my cute nicknames like "baby", a perfect school life, one where everyone liked me and busted their asses to sit next to me at lunch. But that wasn't reality.

My reality was much darker than that.

Without thinking, I began to shed the warmer layers that I had carelessly thrown on before leaving the house. I threw my scarf over the railing, pulled off my hat, shrugged off my thick pea coat, and threw my converse into the raging water below.

I stood shivering with only a t-shirt, jeans, and socks remaining, trying to think of another way out. I didn't want to do this, but I couldn't think of another way to escape my miserable existence. All I could see were the blossoms of bruises littering my arms, and the scars of the lethal blade of a desperate girl.

Was this supposed to be my whole life? Was that all I was living for? The next punch? The next drunken rage? The next bloody encounter with my own razor blade?

No. I would die on my own accord. On my own terms.

Confident, I mounted the bridge so I was standing on top of the metal railing with both hands clinging to the steel trusses. The wintry air cut right through my body, taking my breath away with a freezing shock. My socks were soaked through with the newly fallen snow. It was just below freezing, allowing the river to rush along its banks with only a thin layer of ice coating the top.

I stood perched upon the edge of the bridge, taking my time as it was 3am on Christmas morning and everyone was safely tucked in their warm beds. No one would be here to interrupt my attempt to end my pain.

My breath came out in swirling puffs as my body labored to provide air for my lungs. The whole world was silent. Nothing stirred. Only the flowing water beneath my feet gave a small roar, beckoning me.

Tears stung my eyes as the wind picked up. I was going to do it. I was going to end my life. It was the only way. My only escape. I prayed to my nonexistent God to make it swift and effective, reasoning with him that the world would be better off without me in it. Closing my eyes, I kissed my golden cross.

No life. No future. No hope.

Just as I was about to let my fingers slip and plunge into the icy unknown, my whole world came to a screeching halt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" a voice exclaimed from behind me. I heard the smacking of his feet against the asphalt.

My lips trembled. "Don't come any closer. I'll jump!" I threatened, my voice shaky and alien to me. It had gone at least a few notes higher and was full of tears and pain. His footsteps silenced. "Go away. I mean it! Just go home and leave me alone!" I demanded.

"I'm not leaving you. Now, why don't you climb down and then we can talk properly," the man offered.

"I can't. I have to do this. I have no choice," I hissed, shaking uncontrollably.

"No, you don't. You always have a choice," he answered, pausing, "Now, why don't you make a great one by telling me your name."

I wiped away the slime dripping down from my nose. "Why should I tell you anything? I don't even know who you are," I argued.

"You're right you don't. Well, I'm the Doctor. I guess you could say I'm a traveler. I don't like to stay in the same place for too long, and I save peoples' lives. Usually by accident, but it's a life saved all the same."

I snorted. "The Doctor? Your name can't be the Doctor. That isn't a name. And I assume you're here to save me?"

"Of course I'm here to save you. You're more important than you could ever understand. Now, how about that name?" The Doctor questioned.

I stayed silent a moment, contemplating what he said. Should I tell this man, a stranger, who gave himself a ridiculous title, the luxury of knowing my name? Why did it matter? There was no way he could talk me off the ledge. I was going to dive into the water. It was my only way out.

"Samantha Albright." The words seemed foreign to my lips. Like they had never once passed them before. But then again, I wasn't myself. I left my body a long, long time ago.

"That's a beautiful name. Samantha Albright. That is brilliant. See you just made a great choice right there. Okay, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself," he commented.

I shook my head. "What is there to say? I'm nothing. I'm unimportant. I don't mean anything to anyone," I retorted.

"That's not true, Samantha. You are very important. Your family loves you, your friends love you, people care, you just can't see it," the Doctor argued.

I turned to look at him, my green eyes ablaze. "Don't you get it? I have no one! I don't have a family! Why do you think I'm standing on this damn railing? Do you think I _want _to be here? This is my only way out! My mom's a heroin addict. Once when I was five, she asked if I wanted to try it. _Five_. My stepfather is a hopeless drunk who beats the shit out of me anytime he can get the chance. My only hope is if he passes out because God knows my useless mother will do anything. My father's in jail for raping me and my older brother repeatedly since we were little. And my brother, well he jumped off this same rail two years ago. And at school, oh God school, I'm the perfect target for bullies! Kids ridicule me, push me into lockers, take my notebooks, make fun of my drawings, shove me onto the ground. I sit alone a lunch because no one wants to be my friend. They tell me that I'm ugly, that I'm a skank, that no one likes me, that the world would be better off without me. And you know what…" I yelled, my voice fading to a whisper. The tears of anger turned to those of pain and sadness, and my lungs heaved against my ribcage with deep sobs. "…they're right. No one loves me. Not even me. I've hated myself so much for the past month I haven't looked in the mirror. You know why? Because I don't recognize the person staring back at me. How could something so hideous and vile be still living? How could such a loathsome creature continue to make everyone miserable? I'm embarrassed of what I let them make me become. An emo freak that hates herself more than any other person in the world. And I hope they're all happy because they won. I'm going to kill myself, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

I was about to let myself go when a hand grabbed my wrist. I whipped my head around to see a young man with a tweed jacket and a bowtie staring confidently, yet sympathetically at me with his ancient blue eyes.

"I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. Don't let them win. You're a beautiful, brilliant, young girl, Samantha Albright. You have your whole life ahead of you and life is precious. More precious than any treasure on Earth. I was brought here for a reason and that reason was to stop you from making the worst decision you could ever make. Things may seem unbearable now, but I promise you they'll get better. Let all your hate go and allow yourself some kind of happiness. Some kind of hope," the Doctor begged.

"I can't," I cried, "I lost hope a long time ago. Things won't get better. They never do." Hot tears sped down my cheeks, and my nose ran freely. I let go of the truss, only the Doctor's grip keeping me from jumping without restraint.

"Stop! Don't, please! Hate is going to destroy you. You have to let it go. You have to allow the people that love you in," he pleaded, his voice rising with panic.

"You still don't get it! Hate is all I have. Hate for my mother, my father, my stepfather, my classmates. There's no room for anything else, and yet without it I have nothing. There's no one to love me. No one will ever want to love me!" I wailed, doubling over with grief.

"That's not true, Samantha. I think you're a wonderful girl. And maybe if we got to know each other better, we could be great friends. But for that to happen you need to come down from that rail."

I would never go back home. I promised myself I wouldn't. I would never be anyone's punching bag again.

I shook my head. "I'm not going back. I can't. I won't," I denied, "they'll kill me."

At this he smiled softly. "Then run away with me. I can take you anywhere you want to go," he offered, leaning on the railing. I clutched the metal post tighter, making sure he wouldn't try anything, but he didn't. He sighed. "Samantha, I'm a long way from home, and I'm very, very old. I'm not human, and I travel across the universe saving civilizations. I travel in my spaceship, the TARDIS, and I would love for you to come with me. I could take you anywhere and keep you safe. You never have to go back home."

He had to be lying. None of this could be possible. Aliens didn't exist. He was just saying all of this to talk me off the ledge. This so called "Doctor" didn't mean any of it.

But, what had I to lose? I prayed for another way out and this was the only opportunity that was being presented to me. I was already at my lowest, could it really get that much worse? He seemed kind, his words real, and his voice tender and soft. Something I hadn't experienced in a long time. And something I wanted more of.

"Anywhere?" I inquired, the tears slowing.

His grin widened. "It's all up to you," the Doctor replied.

I licked my lips that were salty with tears. "And I never have to come back home?"

"Not if you don't want to," he answered.

This was better than I could ever imagine. And if it ended up being worse than my life now, then I at least took the risk of being happy for once in my life instead of drowning my problems in an icy river.

Pushing my wavy, raven hair back, I wiped my nose with my arm. "Can you help me down?" I murmured.

The Doctor beamed. "It would be my pleasure, Miss Albright."

He extended his arms out to me, and I gladly took hold of them. Straining very little, he swung me onto the ground in front of him.

Shivers rattled through my body as the snow and wind chilled me. I rubbed my hands against my arms, trying to generate some heat, but my attempts were useless.

The mysterious man clapped his hands together. "Now, where are your clothes? It's quite a walk to my TARDIS, and you don't have shoes or a jumper," he commented, looking me up and down.

I stared down at my feet, which I could no longer feel, sheepishly. "I threw them into the river. You know, hypothermia," I muttered, embarrassed.

"No problem. We'll just have to get a little creative, won't we?" The Doctor assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me. "Put this on. It'll keep you a little warmer than that thin t-shirt you have on."

Too cold to protest, I pulled on the thick tweed jacket. It was clearly too big for me as the arms came an inch or two past my fingertips, and the fabric hung loosely on my petite frame. It would have to do. Besides, I was the idiot that threw my perfectly warm clothing into the river. It was my own fault.

"Now this is where things get a little tricky. Well, maybe not tricky. Interesting at the very least. Anyway, we very well can't have you traipsing through the snow and slush in those thin socks of yours. So hop on," he babbled.

"What?" I asked dumbly, staring at his outstretched arms.

"Come on, we're going to do this bride-style. Hurry now, we don't want you catching a cold," the Doctor insisted.

Embarrassed, but not wanting to seem rude, I unwillingly looped my arms around his neck and hopped into his arms. I heard the crunch of the snow underneath his shoes as he trudged through the snow, heading towards his spaceship. Exhausted from crying and the cold, I felt my eyes beginning to droop. I trembled with fear and the coldness of the wind and snow swirling around us.

The Doctor pressed me closer to his chest, trying to share some of his body heat with me. I gladly leeched the warmth of his body, imagining a nice warm bed.

"Samantha, I'm going to show you all of them. Every last one," the Doctor murmured to himself.

I opened my eyes lazily, exhaustion taking its toll. "Show me what?"

He pointed up to the star-studded, night sky, smiling. "The stars."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Shout out to xXEtherealDreamXx: Thanks for the lovely review. It means so much :)**

*Doctor's POV*

I sauntered into the TARDIS, Samantha cradled in my arms. My eyebrows furrowed as the TARDIS let out a huge moan. What was wrong with her? I had her programmed to take Clara and me back to Clara's flat for Christmas, but somehow we ended up in the northern United States. It wasn't like her to just go wherever without a real purpose.

I sighed. I would have to investigate later. Samantha was my top priority. Anyway, I didn't mind the delay. I saved a young girl's life; another beautiful life that I could add to my list of victories. And that was good enough for me.

"Okay, Sammie, oo I like that. Sammie. Sammie Albright. You sound like you could be a famous football player. Sorry, what was I saying? Oh right, I'm going to take you to the wardrobe to find you some warm clothes. Perhaps, a jumper or a-" I babbled, glancing down at the young girl.

Her stomach rose up and down in a calm rhythm, and her eyes were closed. I could hear the soft hum of her breath. I grinned, shaking my head. She had fallen asleep!

I jostled her gently. "Come on, wake up. We're in the TARDIS. We'll get you some clothes, and then you can sleep," I whispered.

No response.

"Now, it can't be comfortable sleeping in those sopping clothes, and you could catch a cold. Come on, we'll find you some nice, fleece jim jams," I insisted in a hushed tone.

Sammie still slept soundly, unfazed by my urgings.

I smirked. "Alright, Albright, we'll do it your way."

I continued out of the console room, heading toward the library. It was the only room in the TARDIS that had a fireplace and hopefully it would keep her warm until she woke up and could change out of her wet clothes. I grinned as I studied her face.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep. Tears no longer plagued her eyes, and her breath was steady and even. If I hadn't known any better, I wouldn't have thought anything of her. She looked like a typical 16 year-old girl who just had a rough night. But Sammie wasn't a typical 16 year-old. I had just seen her hanging off the side of the bridge.

But as I examined her face, I noticed a particular red puffiness enveloping on the crest of her cheekbone. My eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. There was no way it was from her crying episode. When I looked closer though, I could detect a bluish-purple undertone developing underneath the skin.

My body tensed. Even though she previously spoke of her abuse, I never imagined that it happened tonight. People who abused children, defenseless children, were cowards. How could you take out your problems, your adult problems, on a poor child? It was sick. And I never wanted to see it again. No one would ever hurt Sammie as long as I was here.

Without any warning though, Sammie groaned and rolled over in my arms. Panicking, I hastily moved my arms with her, worried that she'd fall out of my grasp. But as soon as it had come, she once again settled and snuggled her head against my chest.

"You're not going to make this easy for me are you?" I scolded, but couldn't keep the smile off my face. I turned toward Clara's room, which was right across from the library, and pushed her door open. "Oi, the TARDIS landed somewhere in America. I picked up a gir- ah!"

I caught Clara standing in the middle of her room wearing only a bra and knickers…again.

"Doctor, what the hell?" she screeched, sprinting toward the loo to hide.

Like always I clamped my eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you to get dressed," I mumbled, slamming the door shut.

I moved on to the library, silently screaming at myself for not knocking. It was a bad habit I had acquired over the years, and it was starting to create an awkward tension between Clara and me.

Why didn't I ever learn?

I gazed around at my vast collection of books, carefully organized on the shelves built into the TARDIS walls. My mahogany desk stood in the middle of the back wall, and cozy chairs and sofas were nestled around the fireplace in the center of the right wall.

Careful not to wake her, I laid Sammie down on the sofa where she could get warmth from the fire. I retrieved a blanket from an adjacent chair and draped it over her. "There you go. Nice and warm," I whispered, pushing back some stray hairs that hung in her face. "I'll be right back. Just got to pop into the kitchen and make us some tea."

I glanced over the room to make sure there were no sharp tools lying around that she could hurt herself with, but once satisfied, strode out of the room. I strolled down the hallway toward the kitchen, whistling a cheery tune.

"Oi, you!" Clara yelled down the hallway.

I instantly stopped whistling, but picked up my walking pace. I pretended not to hear her, hoping that she would drop the whole matter as she sometimes did, but of course no one would throw me a bone. I felt her hand grab my arm, and she spun me around to face her.

"Chinboy, what have I told you about knocking?" Clara exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest.  
"Oi! My name's not Chinboy!" I argued.

"I'll stop calling you Chinboy when you stop barging into my room when I'm only in my…well you know," she exasperated.

"You mean your lacy bra and knickers?" I jested, smirking.

Clara blushed fiercely. "They were not 'lacy' they just had _some _lace. And why were you looking? You do know I was naked underneath!" she defended.

I laughed, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. "Oh, Clara, everyone's naked underneath."

She squirmed out of my grasp. "Ew, stop. Not on Christmas," Clara giggled, but then she realized the second part of her sentence. "Christmas! Oh my God. Christmas is at my flat this year. Why aren't we at my flat, Chinboy?!"

I gestured to the kitchen. "Let's talk over tea."

* * *

"She what? Oh my God, the poor girl," Clara exclaimed, leaning against the counter.

I nodded. "I know. Her name is Samantha Albright. Well, I call her Sammie. Not sure if she likes it. Fell asleep in my arms on the way to the TARDIS."

"How old is she?" she inquired, taking a sip of tea.

I shrugged. "I don't know. She's a little girl. Somewhere around 16 is my guess."

Clara laughed. "That's _not _a little girl. Doctor, she's practically grown."

"Maybe not to humans, but to me she is. Remember Clara, I'm over a thousand years old. To me, she's still a child," I explained, running my index finger along the rim of the teacup.

"Well, old man, what am I to you? I'm not much older than her, only by eight years. Am I still a child?" she giggled, teasing.

"Well, after seeing those black, lacy undergarments of yours, I'm not exactly sure," I jested.

Her face turned a deep scarlet, but she grinned. She always knew when I was joking. "Come on, be serious," Clara said, taking a sip of mint tea.

I sighed, rising up from my chair at the kitchen table. "I don't know. You're Clara."

"And?" she insisted, peeking over her teacup with bright eyes.

A smile played onto my lips. "And…" I drawled, searching for an answer she'd be satisfied with. I knew she fancied me and would give the world to be with me, but I didn't love her like that. I loved her in a best friend sort of way. And the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her.

I licked my lips. "You're my Clara. My impossible girl."

Relief washed over me as she beamed, satisfied with my answer. Clara's smile soon faded though, and she set her teacup on the counter.

"What are we going to do with Samantha, Doctor?" she questioned.

I swirled the tea around my cup. "I'm not sure. I think she wants to travel with us though. But she doesn't know about you yet so just avoid the library until she wakes up. I think a strange man is all she can take today," I answered.

"Why didn't you take her into one of the bedrooms? There's about a bazillion to choose from."

"How many times do I have to tell you, there's not a bazillion, maybe a couple thousand at most. And I set her up in the library because I want to keep an eye on her tonight. You know, to make sure she doesn't try anything unbelievably stupid again."

An awkward silence hung over the kitchen. Clara shuffled her feet. "You know you have to take her home sometime, right?" she asked softly.

Anger rose in my throat, and I fought to push it back down. "She's never going back to that house. Never again. I promised her," I replied darkly.

Clara stared right in my eyes. "You shouldn't have promised her that. She can't travel with you forever."

"Hm and you can? You always say that you're going to travel with me forever, what makes Sammie any different?" I hissed.

"I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions. My family won't be looking for me if I say I'm traveling. Now Samantha is a minor, and her parents expect her to come home every night. She has school. People will be wondering where she went. She can't just disappear, Doctor!" Clara argued.

"She's in far better hands with me. I can take care of her. Take her wherever she wants to go. And that sure as hell can't be said for those monsters she's living with!" I snarled.

"And did you warn her of the dangers of traveling with you? That we'd be fighting alien, monster things?" she questioned.

"No, but that's beside the point. This is my TARDIS, and she will travel with us as long as she wishes. And I expect your full, unquestioning cooperation," I said, but my tone softened. I gripped her chin between my thumb and index finger. "I need my impossible girl."

She smiled sadly. "The more I hear about her the more she reminds me of you," Clara whispered.

My eyebrows furrowed. "How so?"

"You're both so lonely. Both so angry with the universe. Maybe the reason why you invited her wasn't to talk her off the ledge, but because you saw yourself in her. Wanted to let her know she wasn't alone. And you know what's so great about you, Doctor?"

"What?"

"Most people would have walked right by. Wouldn't have even noticed her about to make a terrible mistake. Hey, it's not their problem. Why should they help? It's Christmas, and they have biscuits to eat and presents to give. But you, you stopped her. Despite the billion other things you could've been doing. You stopped her from jumping. Why?"

I gave a small smile. "She was crying," I murmured. Clara's eyes narrowed as she tried to interpret my cryptic answer. I sighed. "I can't explain it to you, not myself anyway. A friend once explained it perfectly to me. Well, sort of, not really, some misconceptions, but let me tell you what she said. What if you were really old, and really kind and lonely, your whole race dead. What couldn't you do then? If you were that old, and that kind, and the very last of your kind, you couldn't just stand there and watch children crying," I whispered.

Amy Pond. She knew me so well. Even from her first trip on the TARDIS. She got me spot on.

"So whole worlds could be getting incinerated, but the second a child cries-" she murmured.

"I'm on my way," I said, smiling.

We stood gazing at our teacups for a moment, before Clara cleared her throat. "You'd better get to the library, Chinboy. Don't want her waking up alone," she stated, handing me a silver tray with the teapot and teacups.

"Thanks, Oswald." Just as I was about to leave the kitchen, though, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the TARDIS.

My hearts sank. My stomach churned in my abdomen.

"Oh my God, what was that?" Clara exclaimed with concern.

"Samantha!" I yelled, surging forward. The last thing I heard as I sprinted out the door was the clang of the silver tray hitting the tiled floor.


End file.
